


and poseidon did weep

by phalangine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Introspection, M/M, james mcgraw: a cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: While at sea, James looks over the hickeys Thomas left.(follow up to this)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doesnottorturechickens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doesnottorturechickens/gifts).



There are benefits to being an officer on a ship. A certain level of privacy is one of them. James may have worked his way up the ranks like any other man of low birth, but he is in no rush to return to the days of being surrounded by rough talk and the sounds of men doing what ungodly men do in the slings around him. Not that James and the Lord are on good terms at the moment. They never really were, though, were they? Damning James' parents to early, ugly graves. Sentencing him to be forever less than men of half his worth. Delivering him to the Hamiltons, only for James' happiness to be a despicable thing.

If James has to burn for Thomas and Miranda, then bring on the brimstone. He will gnash out his teeth before he turns against the only kindness the world has seen fit to grant him.

The thought of teeth brings him, as it always does these days, to the marks on his legs. They've begun to fade, what were once stark bruises the color of his uniform are now gray and turning yellow at the edges.

James fits his thumb to one of the larger marks, the pad just large enough to obscure Thomas' parting gift. And it was a gift, no matter the tenderness that lingers inside his thighs.

He can construct the exact angle Thomas' head would have been at to leave it, can imagine the twinkle of amusement in his eye at James' rising blush. It is a strange thing, the even temper Thomas can pull from him. James has never taken kindly to being the butt of a joke; he has started fights over far less than the knowing twinkle in Thomas' eye and the pleased quirk of his lip.

When he looks back now, all James feels is the old twist of possessiveness that has hunted him since he was a child. It is an embarrassment. He is an officer, a man of good standing if not birth. He should be done with the neediness of his childhood. Had thought he was done with it before he met the Hamiltons.

Smoothing his thumb up his leg, James brings his fingertip to another, smaller mark. This one has nearly faded entirely, the flesh around it hardly sensitized anymore. Slowly, deliberately, James presses his thumb against it, digging the tip of his finger in until it begins to hurt. He doesn't immediately pull away, instead linger as he is, studying the rest of Thomas' marks.

_"You are mine, James. For as long as you will have me, I will have you."_

This is what James is supposed to remember. Thomas left his marks as a visceral reminder that James is not alone.

How can a man who has never wanted for anything, who has never lived months at sea with nothing but his own thoughts for conversation, know so perfectly where James' mind would go?

Perhaps it comes from the place where he keeps his understanding of the pirate problem. Neutralize the source of the rebellion and turn curs into upstanding men. Cut out James' ability to worry at nothing and return a fretful, overgrown child to the man he ought to be.

Smiling to himself, James finally lets up the pressure on his leg and smooths his thumb over the irritated flesh.

He will have to do this with every mark, which will take time, but on a ship riding the Atlantic, he has little else but time.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this was really short and maybe it should have been a second chapter rather than its own story, but this is what it is and i hope you like it!


End file.
